It's Gonna Be Alright
by angel718
Summary: Max was always there to chase away Lucy's ghosts. But what will she do now that he's the one being haunted? Max/Lucy, NO incest. T for safety.


AN: So, this is AU in the fact that Max didn't do some of the things I'm saying he did, but for the sake of the story, I made

AN: So, this is AU in the fact that Max _didn't_ do some of the things I'm saying he did, but for the sake of the story, I made a few little alterations. I don't know what else to say except: it's late and I'm too tired to edit, so please forgive stupid mechanical errors. Enjoy, and ATU will never be mine.

I.Five-year-old Lucy Carrigan awoke with a shrill scream. "Lucy? Lucy, what's wrong? What happened?" Mr. Carrigan banged through his daughter's bedroom door, glancing around in a semi-panicked state for the thing that had frightened her so. His agitation only succeeded in scaring her more, and she broke into terrified sobs.

"Did you have a nightmare, sweetie?" Mrs. Carrigan cooed, perching on the edge of Lucy's bed to gently stroke her long locks. "What's wrong?"

Lucy hiccupped. "Th' ghost's going to get me," she whimpered.

"What ghost, honey?" Mrs. Carrigan asked, wiping at her daughter's wet face. "There aren't any ghosts here."

"Uh-huh," she insisted, lip quivering, "but he's invisdible."

"Maybe he's friendly," she tried. "Maybe he wants to be your friend."

Lucy shook her head frantically. "He wants to get me."

"Okay, Lucy," Mrs. Carrigan gave in, just as the baby gave a distressed cry from a few rooms away, startled awake by all of the noise.

"Maybe he gotted Julia!" Lucy's eyes grew wider with fear.

Mrs. Carrigan got to her feet with a sigh. "I'm going to go check on her. Daddy's gone to fetch you a glass of nice, warm milk—" (for he had, fleeing the room when it had become obvious that no one was bein abducted. Now matter how much he loved his daughter, he had no idea how to cope with her night terrors.) "—and you can call either one of us if you need anything and we'll be right here. Daddy'll tuck you in, and I'm sure he'd stay with you until you fell asleep if you wanted him to. Okay?" Lucy nodded solemnly even though she had no intention of asking her father to stay with her. Because everyone knew that it was no use having protection from ghosts if your protection didn't believe the ghosts existed. Smiling, her mother kissed her forehead gently. "Sleep well. I love you."

Lucy reciprocated the statement and took her milk from her father, politely declining his offer of company. But a few minutes after Mr. Carrigan had gone to bed, another person entered the room, opening the door soundlessly and tip-toeing in. "Luce?" She jumped and nearly spilled the milk that she had been sniffling over. "Sorry," he added sheepishly, climbing onto the bed beside her.

"Max!" she exclaimed, relieved. "A ghost wants to get me, but Mommy 'n Daddy don't believe me. They think he's _friendly_."

Little Maxwell Carrigan shared a sigh with his sister at the completely clueless nature of adults, and then he drew himself up to his fullest height. "The ghosts won't get you, Luce," he informed her, with childlike assurance in his own ghostbusting abilities.

"How d'you know?" she asked, her eyes wide again, though this time not out of fear.

"Because," he answered patiently, "_I'm_ here. And I'll beat him up if he tries to get you."

She took a tiny sip of her milk. "But what if he gets _you_?"

"He won't," Max said stoutly. "I won't let him." And Max's childish logic soothed Lucy, who burrowed deeper under her covers and giving a tired little yawn as she continued sipping her milk. "C'n you stay 'til I go to sleep?" she asked quietly.

"'Course. Who else is gonna chase away the ghost?" And he lay down beside her, true to his word, not leaving until he was certain that she was asleep.

**Over time, Lucy's night terrors evaporated. But it wasn't the last time she would depend on her brother.**

II.Her bike fell to the ground with a neglected thud that she didn't even notice. _No._ She knew these men; friends of Daniel's from the Army. But they wouldn't be here unless…

"Sweetie," her mother reached out for her through wracking sobs. "It's Daniel. He's…he's dead."

For a second, the entire world stopped turning, and then began to spin extra fast to make up for it. Lucy ignored her mother's outstretched arms, because it was only true if she acknowledged it, and she wouldn't. She sprinted upstairs, slamming the door to her room, and found herself face-to-face with a picture of Daniel and herself at prom. She collapsed to her bed, weeping disconsolately as she realized that no matter how hard she tried to pretend this wasn't happening, it was. Daniel was dead. And he wasn't coming home.

She didn't know how long she lay there, but at some point, a knock came at the door. "Luce? It's me. Open up." And, despite herself, she felt her heart give a little, hopeful leap. Max. He could wake her up from this nightmare. She unlocked the door, and he immediately swept her into a bone-crushing hug. "How are ya, little sister?" he asked, and despite his attempt at playfulness, she could hear the concern in his deep baritone.

She ignored the question, because she didn't know how to answer. "I thought you were going to New York."

"We are. In a couple of days."

"Did Mom tell you about…about…"

"Yeah," he admitted gruffly, sitting on her bed much like he used to when they were children and she'd just woken from one of her nightmares. "You okay?"

She shook her head wordlessly as tears again blurred her vision. "It's just…he was so close to coming home. I don't…I didn't even get to see him one last time." She buried her face in her hands, overcome.

"I know," he said quietly, pulling her to him so that he could cry on his shoulder.

"I'm going to get mascara all over you," she hiccupped at one point, so overwrought with emotion that this realization made her cry harder.

"I don't care about the damn shirt, Luce," he told her, stroking her hair soothingly. "I've got plenty of those and only one of you. I'd say you're a little more important."

"Can you come with me to the funeral?" she pleaded.

"Of course," he replied, and neither one realized that their conversation practically mirrored one from many years before. And Max hadn't changed much since then, at least where Lucy was concerned, because he pushed back his escape to New York so he could attend the funeral with her, holding her pale, trembling hand all through the service. And when she broke down in front of Daniel's casket, it was Max who gently steered her off to on side and told her, softly, "If you don't think you can stay, I'll take you home. I'm sure everyone will understand." Lucy shook her head tremulously, and they rejoined the rest of the mourners. He took her hand again and sang in her ear so quietly, and moving his lips so little, that no one but she even noticed" "_Don't you know it's gonna be alright? You know it's gonna be alright…_"

**It was these things that she recalled when Max started battling his own ghosts.**

III.He got worse after Jude left, and now she found herself creeping into his room at 2:30 in the morning, clutching a glass of water for when he woke up. "Max?"

But he was gone, thrashing madly around in his bed, face glistening with cold sweat. "No," he moaned, face contorting with agony and fear, "no, don't…"

Lucy's heart clenched. "Max!" she exclaimed, putting down the water and hurrying forward. She halted hesitantly when she was even with the bed, hand half-outstretched to push his bangs off of his forehead, but she stopped herself. Touching him would have to wait until he was awake, or she'd only push him further away. "Max, come on," she begged helplessly, "you can do this."

"Don't hurt me," he pleaded, and then, with a pained yell that was almost as if he'd been shot all over again, he shot bolt upright, light blue eyes wide and glassy with fear. He was awake, but clearly not back, still stuck in Vietnam.

"Max, it's me, it's Lucy," she told him, desperate. "No one's going to hurt you anymore. You're safe. You're back in New York." She made sure not to make contact until he realized that she wasn't lying.

He blinked hazily, still uncertain. "Luce?" His voice was raspy.

"Yeah." She let out a little, relieved sigh and edged closer. "Yeah, it's me."

"I didn't mean to kill him!" he burst out, a single tear trailing down his cheek. "But he killed Mike, and Mike didn't do anything. We were all just setting up camp. I don't even know how he got there, because we checked the area and no one saw him coming…I had to kill him, because he was going to keep shooting…I don't know how I was the only one who saw Mike go down. So I shot him back, and he made this funny sound, and his face got all scared…and then he fell, and I couldn't stop thinking…he had a family. His family will never see him again. And it's my fault…my fault." She reached for him, but he wasn't finished.

"They shot me the next day; they must have been his friends. Those helmets don't do nothin', the bullet went straight through and I could feel it hit me…It hurt like hell…I thought I was going to die. And all I wanted to do was come home…just…just come home." He broke down completely now, and she gathered him into her arms, stroking his sweat-dampened hair and choking back tears of her own. After a few minutes, he seemed to calm down. "Luce?"

"Yeah, Max?" Her voice cracked.

"I'm pretty bad off, huh?" And he was back, finally back. Maybe not quite himself, but he'd returned from whatever place his dreams had taken him at last. A few tears of gratitude slid down her cheeks, and she answered him in familiar song.

"Don't you know it's gonna be alright? You know it's gonna be alright…" 


End file.
